


if we let words run free

by thisandthisandthis



Category: Star Trek, Star Trek: Deep Space Nine
Genre: Bottom Julian Bashir, Established Relationship, Explicit Consent, Love Confessions, M/M, No Plot/Plotless, Porn with Feelings, Softness, Tender Sex, Tenderness, Top Elim Garak
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-13
Updated: 2020-11-13
Packaged: 2021-03-10 03:14:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,051
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27547435
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thisandthisandthis/pseuds/thisandthisandthis
Summary: something is different tonight.
Relationships: Julian Bashir/Elim Garak
Comments: 10
Kudos: 107





	if we let words run free

**Author's Note:**

> may i offer you some tenderness and unconditional love in these trying times?
> 
> \- peach ([more fics](https://archiveofourown.org/users/thisandthisandthis/works) // [my tumblr](https://leehallfae.tumblr.com/))

Something is different tonight.

Julian touches him softly. This itself is not a novelty, but there is still something new to it, some quiet, hesitating whisper in the drag of his fingers, something under the surface of it all, asking gently to be heard. Julian does not give him those mischievous looks or attempt playful banter as they undress. Not tonight. He is quiet. His eyes are wide and soft. He looks as though his heart might burst out of his chest, as though he might start weeping any moment. When Elim kisses him, he makes no sound. Just cradles his face with such tenderness that Elim feels, deep in his bones, the meaning of the word  _cherish._

Julian smiles, achingly gentle, and coaxes Elim onto the bed. His gaze glimmers in the pale light of the stars as he looks and looks, as if it the first time he has seen Elim’s body, with such reverence and wonder, that Elim cannot find it in himself to feel self conscious. His fingers trip over flushed scales and skin, light as a breeze, and he drinks in the sight before him. Elim gazes back. From his position lain out on the bed propped up by a few pillows, and with Julian kneeling between his parted thighs, he feels as though he is quivering under the whole of the gaping sky, still somehow wrapped up in an intangible embrace.

It is Julian’s eyes. They are different, tonight. They are big and gleaming and filled with some unnameable tenderness. Elim almost does not want to ask, else the name do injustice to the truth, else the static walls of language box that infinite aching stare into something less lovely than its unacknowledged nature.

Julian kisses him again, once. His mouth is lazy and warm. They breathe together for a few moments, cheek to cheek, sharing the damp sweet air between them. Elim makes a small noise when Julian pulls away. His hand begins to trace circles at the crease of Elim’s thigh.

He smiles, gently, and says, “Can I?”

They have done this many times. Julian never fails to ask.

Nodding, Elim lifts one hand to brush through Julian’s hair. He presses ever so slightly into the contact and smiles. Julian’s left hand presses against the curve of Elim’s hip, and his right moves between Elim’s legs. He wastes no time slipping one, then two fingers into Elim’s ajan. Soft and slow, but filling him wonderfully, and he hisses long and low in his throat, no longer hesitant to keep in the noise, after that first time when Julian said that he found it so lovely to hear his pleasure.

In up to the knuckle. Warm slick coating those gold-brown fingers rocking in and out, in and out, caressing his inner walls with the soft pads of his fingers, and curling them slightly that way Elim loves. He rolls his hips leisurely and tightens his hold in Julian’s hair, feeling the low rumble in his chest, reveling in the smoldering build of pleasure between his legs. And Julian’s soft determined eyes. All of his focus devoted to Elim in this moment, alone.

Julian leans in to kiss him. His fingers are ceaseless now, meeting each shallow buck of his hips. “Julian,” Elim breathes, as those long lovely fingers brush against the base of his uneverted prUt. He feels the tip of his prUt emerge from his ajan as his arousal grows, and he longs to evert fully.

But Julian slips his fingers away and gives Elim a tender smile, saying, “Wait, love,” and reaches around to begin prepping himself, hand slicked with Elim’s own copious arousal fluid.

At first, he hardly registers Julian’s movements and soft moans as he opens himself on his fingers, for his mind is spinning from that one simple word, uttered as though it had been said between them a hundred times before.

_ Love, _ Julian said.  _ let’kya_ _. Love, lover._ Of course Elim has seen it before in Julian’s gaze, so he isn’t surprised by the sentiment, only struck by the aching softness of his voice when he finally let the word slip from his lips — Julian, whose affection permeates every act and sweet touch, seems to be bursting with it, as though he cannot contain all of his feeling within his chest.  _ Love, _ he said simply, as though the very word itself  begged to leave the confines of the chest for no other reason than to be heard.

Unlike Julian, Elim has never been the type to speak during these such intimate moments — so much vocalisation seems to be a Human irregularity. But Julian moans his praises and encourages Elim with his words, says the most lovely things like “oh, you feel wonderful,” and sometimes even curses, which he assures Elim only means that he is overwhelmed by pleasure. The one thing Elim has adopted from Julian is his tendency to simply murmur his partner’s name — like a whisper, a prayer in his ear.  _ Elim, _ Julian will say, just for the sake of it. So Elim says  _ chU’lian, chU’lian, _ kisses the syllables into his skin for no reason other than to feel the sounds in his mouth.  _ chU’lian, vakEla pak, _ he says, just to see Julian smile.  _ My spring. _

Elim brings his hands up to Julian’s hips to steady him as he prepares himself. Julian’s eyes flutter shut and Elim wishes he could see those lovely fingers where they breach his body, stretching him open in anticipation of Elim’s prUt. The thought sends a shiver through his body and he hisses, wanting. He wants this tenderness that Julian is dedicated to tonight. He wants this softness that Julian is so overflowing with tonight. He wants to feel Julian surrounding him, over him, atop him, hot and gentle as a rush of springwater, slow as a summer breeze, reveling and claiming and taking their time, hands on Julian’s hips and palms on Elim’s chest and leisurely kisses in between.

Julian shivers and sighs as he removes his fingers, bracing his arms on either side of Elim. “This okay?” he whispers, to another nod, as he carefully positions himself over Elim’s prUt, the warm, slick tip just emerging from his ajan and gently breaching Julian’s opening. Feeling Julian hot and heavy on top of him, Elim allows himself to evert into Julian’s tight warmth. He hisses with the release. Julian’s breath leaves him in a shaky exhale as he is filled in one smooth movement, his eyes darkening, thighs clenching. They are still for a moment, feeling each other.

“Mmmh,” Julian says. He rolls his hips slowly, indulgently. “Elim,” he murmurs, soft and almost inaudible. “You feel so perfect.”

Elim responds with a low rumble and tightens his hands on Julian’s hips. Julian is a vision above him, brown skin gilded with a thin layer of sweat, his cock jutting heavily from between his thighs. They move together without any urgency. Julian draws it out, relishing every push and pull, his hands moving up to brace on Elim’s chest, to stroke at his flushed kinat’hU. Elim lifts a hand to wrap around Julian’s cock. His partner’s eyes flutter shut, a soft moan escaping his lips. There are nights when they are impatient, rough, when Julian shouts and writhes and Elim cannot tell where he ends and where Julian begins and together they are a single blur of  _ take me please _ wild abandon white-hot desire — this is not one of those nights.  _ Tenderness, _ says the arch of Julian’s hips as they come down to meet Elim’s. And that other word, too. Still shining behind his dark eyes like unshed tears.

That is the difference of tonight, Elim thinks. Julian has a confession on his tongue. Elim already knows it. He will kiss the words from Julian’s lips the moment they emerge, and Julian will smile.

“Ahhhh,” Julian breathes, his hips moving in a steady rhythm. “Ah, Elim.” This is when he will say it, Elim thinks.

But he doesn’t — he watches Elim’s face closely, quietly, for just a moment, before slowing his movements to a gentle rocking and leaning down to ghost his breath across Elim’s lips. Their noses brushing, he murmurs, “I know what you’re thinking.”

“Mmh,” Elim responds. He is distracted by the feeling of their joining, only halfway understanding Julian’s words. “And what would that be?”

Julian kisses him, once, delicately. “You’re thinking that you know what I’m thinking.”

“Hm...?” Elim blinks at Julian and tries to process.

Julian smiles. “I want you to say it, darling.”

“Say what?” Elim runs his hands up and down those lovely golden hips.

“You know. What you’ve been too afraid to say, all this time. I want to let you know that it’s alright.” Julian cups the side of Elim’s face in one gentle hand. “And I want you to let yourself say it.”

“I... don’t know what you mean, my dear.” Elim shifts his gaze away, but Julian brings a hand to his chin and urges him to face him again.

“Yes you do, lover. I know you feel it too. I know you’ve felt it for a long time.”

Elim is shaken by the warmth in his voice and the fondness in his dark shining eyes. Julian is still moving on top of him, fucking himself slowly, gently on Elim’s prUt, every motion sending shocks of pleasure through Elim’s body. He struggles to focus on what Julian is saying. At the same time, he knows exactly what Julian wants.

_ jal ot let’kyas, _ Elim thinks. _ jal ot taadikat. _

He does not want to say it aloud.

“You’re not afraid to be with me in public,” Julian continues, his voice soft. “You take my hand on the Promenade. That first time, in your shop, you kissed me just for the sake of it. I know you’re not afraid of what we are. So why won’t you say it?”

“My dear...”

Julian smiles, a face of radiance. The words are pounding within Elim’s chest in time with his birdlike heart. He does not want to say it aloud. He does not want to make this into something real, something that can be torn down the middle. But Julian already knows. His honey-colored eyes sparkle with the knowledge. He knows and he welcomes it, he wants it.

The movement of Julian’s hips grows faster, more pointed. With one gentle hand he strokes Elim’s cheek. “Come on, Elim. Darling. It’s alright, I feel it too. You don’t have to worry.”

A small whimper escapes Elim. He pushes his hips up, pushpushpush, head fogged with arousal and chest aching with affection and nerves, and what a thing, that he has allowed himself to become so soft before Julian — the words spin in his head, half-formed in his mouth and longing. Julian’s palm rests tenderly against cheek and he whispers encouragements in Elim’s ear, urging him on, _c_ _ome on come on darling, let me make you feel good, just let me hear you say it, I want to hear you say it_ — Elim hisses and pants.

“Julian,” he says.

“Oh, lover,” Julian says. “Tell me.”

And Elim feels his climax building, hot and heavy and deep in his core, as Julian kisses his face cheek neck chest lips lips  _ lips, _ he blushes and blushes underneath and the fever builds and kiss kiss touch pushpushpush he’s coming, he’s _coming_ and he’s gripping Julian’s hips and squeezing his eyes shut and saying  _ I love you, _ he says it like a prayer, with the words tumbling over his tongue like a confession,“I love you,” and there is Julian’s mouth smiling on his and that lovely voice moaning and murmuring and the warmth and wet and release between them and then, and then a gentle quiet.

Elim opens his eyes.

“Darling,” Julian says, his eyes like little moons as he brushes the hair from Elim’s face.

They kiss, though it is not so much a kiss as a sharing of breath. Elim feels suddenly as though he has never been more safe, more loved, in his whole life.

“I love you too,” Julian says simply, tenderly. “You must know.”

“I do.” He smiles and pulls Julian closer, burying his face in the warm and lovely scent of him. “I do.”

**Author's Note:**

> thanks for reading! comments and kudos are always appreciated <3
> 
> also !! because i will never pass up an opportunity to talk about the cardassian conlang im currently working on, here are the meanings of the cardasi phrases in this vakEla pak: “my spring,” a cardassian endearment (spring as in water, not the season)  
> \- jal ot let’kyas: “i love you” with use of the verb let’kyaEs, one of the eight cardasi words for love. connotes deep emotional connection, most often used in the context of blooming romantic feelings and/or relationships, but can also be platonic as well. its a very serious sentiment, cardassians dont use let’kyaEs with just anyone.  
> \- jal ot taadikat: “i love you” with use of the verb taadikOs, which is explicitly romantic, as well as indicating sexual love. its pretty much only used between joined (married) or otherwise extremely close couples. connotes deep romantic devotion intertwined with sexual feelings.
> 
> credit to [tinsnip](https://archiveofourown.org/users/tinsnip) for the cardassian anatomy terms <3
> 
> \- peach ([more fics](https://archiveofourown.org/users/thisandthisandthis/works) // [my tumblr](https://leehallfae.tumblr.com/))


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